Kalmarunionen
by wally-westicle
Summary: It was beginning to become too much for Norway to handle, but he couldn't very well stop. Stopping meant putting Iceland in danger, and he would never allow that to happen. Denmark's harsh voice rang in the distance. His breathing stopped and shortly returned, shallow and painful. Were the apologies even enough anymore? (Kalmar Union historic fic. TWs: abuse, rape, self-harm)
1. Prologue

Hello my friends

Okay, so I am going ahead to safely assume you all realize i'm going through my 'I LOVE HETALIA' phase again, right? That's true. It's the damn Nordics.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia in anyway, I just love all the characters, man. I love them all a little too much. I wish I owned Hetalia, though. You'd see some good shit if I did. And by good I mean lots of Nordic episodes, lots of gay, and lots of the UK brothers.

Characters

Berwald - Sweden

Tino - Finland

Håkon - Norway

Mikkel - Denmark

Dagfinnur - Iceland

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><p>It had come naturally for the five of them to get along. Who got along better with the Nordics other than fellow Nordics? Finland and Sweden seemed joined at the hip, Iceland was constantly receiving wanted affection from Norway, and Denmark was just so happy to have them all under one roof- under one monarchy.<p>

It hadn't been easy to get them all to agree to the union. It took more finagling than Mikkel had wanted it to, but soon Håkon agreed to the union, bringing Dagfinnur with him in his stride. Berwald was a different story. He hadn't come so willingly. They fought and yelled and bickered. Each night, Mikkel would come home with a new wound that Håkon found himself having to fix. It was tiring and difficult, but in the end, Mikkel had gotten what he wanted. All five of them under his single rule. He was the king, and he loved them all.

The union had gone along swimmingly. They all played mindless games, told each other stories, laughed, cried, did everything together. They were the perfect family on the outside. On the inside; however, something was brewing, and despite Mikkel's oblivious nature, he couldn't help but notice this happy occasion wasn't to last much longer.

1520

Berwald didn't like the union anymore. He hated it. He tried leaving countless times, but it just ended in a fight between he and his 'superior.' The more he was beaten and abused, the more Tino worried, and he just couldn't have that anymore. Tino didn't need to fret about him. He'd figure a way out of this for the both of them and would perhaps drag Håkon and Dagfinnur away with him.

November 8th, 1520

The climax of the Stockholm Bloodbath. Mikkel had taken the battles too far. He forced Berwald to watch as clergymen, nobility, _anyone_ was helplessly executed. He and his king had promised amnesty, hadn't they? This was inexcusable, and Berwald was hopelessly in a bind. He was thrown back into his sleeping chambers at the end of the bloodspill, and Tino worked fervently to cheer him up. It was settled only after that that Berwald would no longer be a part of the union.

1523

Wars of Succession with Sweden just became harder, more brutal, and Mikkel was beginning to lose hope in his dream of an eternal union. Berwald was getting stronger, harder to keep control of, and Mikkel hated to admit he was losing.

"Why doesn't he want to be my friend anymore, Nor? I have given him everything, have I not? Does he not see all the good I have done for him? What an ungrateful man," he had said to Håkon one night while the other tended to the bloody gash on his eyebrow.

"He does not feel the need to be your friend any longer," the Norwegian had started, gently dabbing at the wound to clean it. "You caused he and his people much sorrow, Mikkel. The bloodbath was the final straw, and you know that. He does not want to be a part of this union due to your behaviour. Granted his is not the best either, but I digress. Perhaps you should just let him go."

"I do not see the good in that, Håkon. Does he deserve it? Nei. Why should I give in for the likes of him?" His words sounded so harsh, and Håkon had to bite his tongue to keep from spitting back some form of insult.

"The fighting is affecting you just as negatively as it is him. It is time to let him secede and be on his own. Perhaps it will do you both some good."

1524

Mikkel had finally seen the mistakes he had made and let Sweden go. His eyes were in a harsh glare, and his jaw was clenched tightly. The only time Berwald had seen him in such a state was on the battlefield. Sure enough, and much to Mikkel's chagrin, the treaty was signed, and Sweden had officially seceded from the union, free to do as he pleased.

Without anymore than a sneer, Mikkel grabbed Håkon's arm and Dagfinnur's hand and took the two of them home. His family was broken, and the house felt empty. Despite the small effort made by Håkon and occasionally Dagfinnur to cheer him up, Mikkel was always left in an angry stupor, letting the brothers do things alone while he had time to think and brood. Håkon would bring meals to his study, and Dagfinnur would occasionally bring games and toys, begging Mikkel to play with him once again like they had before. Despite all his anger, the Dane had agreed and played with the boy like they had before the Swedish succession. Slowly, things returned to normal, and Mikkel's broken family became complete once more.

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><p>So yeah there's the prologue for my newest project my friends. It's my take on the Kalmar Union<p>

This was just the overall view of the history. So now you know that this is why Sweden left.

The first official chapter will be months after Berwald and Tino have left and Mikkel is going just a little mad.

Okay you guys know how it works. Rate and review please. I work a lot harder and faster when I get a bit of encouragement.

Thank you all. uwu


	2. So it begins

So here is the official first chapter on my take of the Kalmar Union.

Obviously there is going to be DenNor in here somewhere, so it's kinda at the end of the chapter if you really squint.

TRIGGER WARNING

THIS CHAPTER CONTINUES VIOLENCE

I don't really think it's graphic, but violence and abuse doesn't trigger me all that bad. If you cannot handle mentions of blood, abuse, or bruising, do not read this. I do not want any of you being affected.

Thanks and enjoy

WARNING: continues little Iceland. idk why that's a warning but cuteness overload maybe? idek

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><p>"Fire, fem, seks, syv, otte, ni, ti! Alright, Island, i'm coming for you!" There was loud giggling coming from the food closet, but Mikkel knew better than to just outright find him. He looked aimlessly beneath tables and opened cabinets.<p>

"I guess Dagfinnur's lost forever. I cannot seem to find him anywhere!" He made a show of looking exasperated at the kitchen counter, watching as the lips on Håkon's face curled upwards in the slightest hint of a smile. A shriek was heard from the pantry, and out stormed a giggling Iceland. He grabbed on to Mikkel's hand and bounced up and down excitedly on his toes.

"Danmark, Danmark, I was in the food closet!" Mikkel began to chuckled, patting his head affectionately.

"I see that, Dagfinn. You are much better at hide and seek than I." The smile on the Icelandic's lips broadened, and the pride he felt was more than obvious. Håkon rolled his eyes, pushing them both out of the kitchen. He was cooking, and he didn't need the two of them in there running amuck.

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><p>"Mikkel, you should have seen bror! He shot down a reindeer this big." The Icelander threw his arms out for emphasis, knocking over a glass of milk that had unfortunately been in his path. He put his arms down immediately, saying a quiet 'oops'. Håkon got up quickly, picking up the glass and pressing a cloth to the mess. Mikkel slammed his hand down on the table, startling the brothers with the harsh sound.<p>

"Dammit, Dagfinnur!" Iceland's bottom lip trembled, tears springing to the corners of his eyes. Håkon frowned and finished cleaning up the mess. He patted Dagfinnur's back reassuringly.

"Mikkel, he did not mean to. He was being animated. I do not understand the problem. It's just some milk." He stood Iceland up and patted his soaked shirt, squatting down to the younger's height to give him a light squeeze. The Icelander sniffled in his ear, rubbing his eyes frantically to rid them of tears. Mikkel had always told him boys didn't cry. Boys weren't afraid of anything.

Mikkel bit the inside of his cheek, face recalculating. The intensity in his eyes nearly vanished, and the harshness in his brow lessened. He pulled Dagfinnur away from his brother, squatting down and holding the boy's hands in his. Dagfinnur visibly stiffened.

"Listen to me," he started, waiting for the child's nod to continue, "you are a good boy, Dagfinnur. Promise me you will not ever do something like that again." Dagfinnur nodded his head in complete understanding, only pulling away from Denmark once Håkon told him to run upstairs and get clean and dry. Norway crossed his arms, standing erect and opening his mouth to say something. He was stopped by a loud slapping noise followed by a stinging pain in his cheek. His mouth clamped shut.

"Who in the hell do you think you are, Håkon?" Mikkel asked, snarling at the Norwegian. Håkon tried to form some sort of a sentence, but no words would come to mind, and he simply stood, gaping at the Dane. Mikkel rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"You might be his older brother, but you will not undermine my parenting. Dagfinnur needs to be punished when he's done something wrong-"

"He did nothing wrong! He spilt milk, Mikkel! It was not on purpose. He was excited to tell you a story, and you scared him! What is wrong with you?" There was another smack, this one much harder, and Håkon had to brace himself against the wall to keep from dropping. He tasted copper, and he wondered if it was his lip or his cheek that was bleeding.

"Shut it, you worthless slut. If you are so worried he will be terribly scarred by a little rightful parenting, I suppose you'll have to take all his punishments, won't you?" Norway swallowed hard, licking the blood from his lip and nodding his head. If that's what it took, then so be it.

"I will," he began. "Whatever punishment you see fit, i'll gladly take. Just please, Danmark, please do it in privacy. He does not need to see. You are so grand in his eyes, Mikkel, i'd hate to see you falter."

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><p>"Håkon, I'm so incredibly disappointed in you, can you not tell?" The venom in his voice stung, and the Norwegian bit his swollen lip, trying to focus on Mikkel's harsh tone rather than the pain he felt from getting his head slammed against the wall. He shouldn't have said anything at dinner. He shouldn't have told Mikkel he was destined to fall. He should have kept his mouth shut. Alas, he did not, and this was his punishment. I had to deal with it, he supposed, and he'd do it with little complaint. Denmark was sad since Berwald left; he'd snap out of it, right?<p>

Wrong.

He was thrown on to the floor, cast aside while Denmark paced, stewing over the words that had been spoken earlier. So grand in his eyes. Iceland's eyes. No one else's? Bull. Complete bull. He was Denmark, the King of the North. He was a feared conqueror, and people bowed at the sight of him. He was strong, invincible, unbeatable.

Sweden had bested him. He seethed, turning around and smacking Håkon once he was again in an upright position. He fell to the ground again, gingerly touching his stinging cheek, eyes wide as he stared at Mikkel. The Dane merely sneered, plopping down on the bed, hands held together tightly, elbows on knees. Norway swallowed hard.

"You think he's better than me, do you not? You think Berwald has won. You think he is some sort of hero worth believing in!" Håkon shook his head frantically, trying to think of any way to soothe Denmark's savaged mind.

"Nei, Danmark, nei. I-I do not. He is not some hero. He left the union on his own accord, and I am sorry. Perhaps he's selfish!" He didn't mean that. Berwald wasn't a hero, that was for sure, but he definitely wasn't selfish. He left with Tino, knowing that it was the best thing for the two of them. He offered to take Iceland and him along, but Håkon was happy with Denmark, and Dagfinnur didn't seem to keen on the idea of being away from the Dane. How was he to predict this to happen?

Mikkel's jaw tensed for a long moment and slowly relaxed. His eyes softened, and he moved over to the Norwegian, cradling his face in his hands, careful of the injury he had caused. Håkon had to keep his lips pressed in a tight line to keep himself from sighing in relief. He didn't want that other Denmark coming back anytime soon. No, he just wanted this Denmark. This Mikkel. This Mikkel was caring, loving, helpful, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was the MIkkel Håkon had fallen for.

"I'm so sorry, Håkon. I- I didn't mean it today. I was not mad at Iceland. Hell, I wasn't even mad at you. Sve and Fin leaving really took a toll on me, ya know? I just miss them a lot. I didn't mean to take it out on you." To emphasize his apology, the Dane pressed a kiss to his cheeks, forehead, and lips. Håkon took in a few slow breaths, bringing his hands up to Mikkel's and holding them in his own.

"Okay. I forgive you, Mikkel."


	3. I'm So Sorry

It had seemed that things had gotten better since the last time Håkon and the Dane had gotten into a bit of a quarrel. Mikkel spoke softer, nicer, and Iceland seemed to have a pleasant attitude once again. It had taken days and reassurance from both Mikkel and Håkon to get Dagfinnur to stop being so upset over the spilled milk situation. Once again, Mikkel and Dagfinnur played games and told each other dumb jokes. Things were normal again, and the Norwegian was glad of it.

"Håkon, let's go outside and have some fun. I'm sure Dag would love it. All you've done all day is read that stupid book. You can't truly find merriment in that." The Norwegian felt his brows crease in subtle frustration, and he slowly lowered the book in his lap, eyeing the Dane warily.

"Mikkel," he drawled, pushing the other's face away with his forefinger, "I know you do not find enjoyment in books, but I do. If you wish to go outside in the snow, bundle up yourself and Ice and have a ball. I'm enjoying myself just fine in here." Mikkel was pouting, arms crossed and bottom lip stuck out. Håkon was almost sure he had seen it tremble. He rolled his eyes, trying to divert his attention by picking up his book once again.

The Dane sighed, getting up and going to Iceland's room. The child was busying himself with attempting (and failing) to make his bed. Chuckling, Denmark helped Dagfinnur finish his chore and then into some warmer clothes. He did the same for himself and took the child outside, leaving the door ajar to speak to Norway.

"Ah, come on, Nor! Look at your brother! He's so cute and happy! Don't you want to come join in on the fun?" Håkon looked out the door, noticing the small smile on the Icelander's lips. His own lips curled upwards in the faintest smile, but he wiped it off to give Mikkel a playful glare.

"Shut the door, Mikkel, it's freezing." He emphasized his point by curling in on himself. The Dane laughed but did as asked and shut the door. At least now Håkon would have the quiet he wanted.

His book was interesting. It told of a faerie finding love and compassion for a troll. A silly tale, really, but the Norwegian loved it dearly. He remembered reading it as a child, before Iceland was found. In fact, he had once read it to Dagfinnur. His violet eyes had gotten wide with wonder, and Håkon briefly wondered if the reaction would be the same if he read it to him again. Perhaps he'd read to him tonight.

His thoughts absorbed him, and he didn't hear the gentle creaking of the door opening, or the trying to be sneaky (that were still much too loud) footsteps creeping up behind him. He noticed Mikkel and Dagfinnur were back a second too late, and snow was shoved down the back of his shirt. He jumped, yelping and stomping to his feet, letting the ice fall down his back and on to the floor. Mikkel and Dagfinnur laughed. Håkon glared at the pair though it held no malice.

"I am so very glad you both found that amusing," he spat, leaning down to pick up his fallen book. Iceland looked at his feet sheepishly, mumbling a sorry that the Norwegian just had to accept. There wasn't any use in being mad at him.

"Yeah, Nor, we're sorry. I just wanted to see what your reaction would be. You didn't come out and have fun with us, so we brought the fun indoors, see?" Mikkel's grin made Håkon almost roll his eyes, and Norway could only nod. The snow had melted into a slushy puddle, and it needed to be cleaned up before anyone slipped over it.

"Island, can you do your big brother a favour?" Håkon asked, watching Dagfinnur perk up at his name. The child nodded his head, eager to help his brother in any way he possibly could.

"Bring me a towel, please. I don't want someone hurting themselves over a small puddle." The child zoomed off, shedding the extra layers of clothes he was wearing as he went. Håkon sighed.

"Hej, Nor," Mikkel started, grabbing the Norwegian's shoulder and shaking it gently for attention. Norway let his eyes linger after the child momentarily before turning them to the Dane before him. Mikkel's smile was less obnoxious, and it made him look almost innocent, small. The corners of his own mouth tipped upwards slightly.

"Do you think tomorrow you'll come out and play in the snow with us? The kid wants to build snow-people, and you're the only person I trust building the body." Håkon snorted, taking the towel from Iceland and pressing it to the wet mess on the floor.

"Já, stóri bróðir, will you _please_ play with us tomorrow?" Dagfinnur was practically urging the Norwegian, and he'd be damned if he said no.

"Ja, fine. I will go out with the two of you tomorrow. It is much too dark now. How about I go make dinner and the two of you wash up?" The eager smiles on the other Nordics' faces pulled at Håkon's heart, and he pushed them both away, telling Denmark to help clean up Dagfinnur before he took care of himself. Mikkel nodded, grabbing the Icelander up in his arms and taking him off to get clean. Norway moved to the kitchen to get a head start on dinner.

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><p>Dinner hadn't been anything special. Norway had made some sort of stew in hopes to warm the other two up. It had worked, and by the time they had finished and Håkon was doing dishes, Dagfinnur was comfortably drifting off, curled up against Denmark's side in the sitting room. Careful as to not disturb the sleeping child, Mikkel picked him up and carried him quietly to his room, tucking him in beneath the blankets and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. He returned to the kitchen and hugged Håkon's waist loosely, resting his chin on the other's shoulder. The Norwegian went stiff and then relaxed, carefully drying the ceramic dish in hand.<p>

"Is Dagfinn asleep?" He asked, placing the dish back in its spot before grabbing up another to dry. Mikkel nodded.

"You know, Nor, I still feel bad about the other night… That's not me- I don't do that kind of stuff. I wouldn't ever hurt you like th-" He was silenced by a damp hand being placed over his. Håkon sighed, patting it a few times and returning to his dishes.

"Don't talk about it anymore, Danmark. I know you wouldn't do something like that. You're stressed out; you're spreading yourself too thin. I understand that." Mikkel's eyes were wet, and he used the cloth on Håkon's shoulder to wipe them. If Håkon understood, Mikkel was lucky to have him.

"I'm so sorry, Håkon. It's been bothering me, and I didn't feel like I really apologized." The Norwegian stayed silent, allowing him to continue talking and apologizing for the other night. He had come to terms with that hours after it happened, and he didn't think anymore apologies were in order. Mikkel was sorry, he was sincere, and Håkon forgave him. Mikkel continued.

"I want to do something for you so you know just how sorry I am." The grip around his waist was no more, and Mikkel's hands had roamed just slightly beneath his shirt, hands cold on warm skin. Håkon smirked a bit and then resumed his stoic expression, drying off the last dish and setting it in its place. This was no place for such talk.

"Mikkel, we can't do this- not in here, at least. Iceland could wake and come searching for us." The Dane let out a chortle, warm breath tickling Håkon's ear. He nearly shuddered at the feeling, but he instead let it slowly pass.

"Dag won't wake up-"

"But if he _does_," Håkon interjected, pushing out of Mikkel's arms just enough to turn and face him. Mikkel laughed a little, nodding his head.

"We can move this, then. To my room. He won't go searching for ya there." This was true. If Dagfinnur was to have a nightmare or an uneasiness in his slumber, he usually would follow the hall to his brother's room or go to the kitchen where a candle would still be lit, away from anything flowy as to not catch the house on fire. He'd sit there and eventually fall asleep only for Håkon to carefully carry him back to his bed.

"I suppose you're right, Mikkel; however, if I hear him calling for me, I will be leaving you to check on him." Mikkel frowned a little, let out a grandiose sigh, and nodded.

"Fine, it's a deal."

* * *

><p>"Ow, Danmark, not so hard," Håkon growled out, pushing the other blonde off him. He was fine with a little neck-biting, sure, but not <em>that <em>hard. What, was he trying to draw blood? Mikkel shied away momentarily, running fingers through his mussed hair and chuckling. He was overzealous, was all. It wasn't everyday Nor allowed them to touch in such a way.

"Gently," the Norwegian reminded him. Mikkel nodded, moving forward once more and pressing their lips together. Håkon returned the kiss, letting himself be pushed back into the less than comfortable mattress. Mikkel's finger gently dragged patterns over the skin of his cheek, moving slowly downwards to lift up the fabric of his shirt and continue drawing patterns there. It tickled Norway to say the least, and he laughed a little against the other's lips. Soon, they were both too caught up in laughing to continue what they had started.

"I want you to know something, Håkon," Mikkel said suddenly, pushing himself to the side until he lay nestled against Håkon's side. The Norwegian looked up at him, the laughter gone but a hint of a smile remaining on his lips and a giddy gleam in his eyes.

"What is it, Danmark?" He asked. The Dane moved close again, kissing his lips and then his cheeks and then his forehead.

"No matter what, I love you." There was silence.

"I love you too."

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><p>Okay so yeah sorry it took so long to get out chapter 2. But there it was.<p>

I bet you guys can tell it was supposed to contain smut but then I got embarrassed writing it and I changed my mind sorry.

When you guys can, I hope you'll review.

Thanks!


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